Awhile back I told you I was going to write a book about adoption. Then I didn’t. For those of you in the adoption trenches you’ll get this. Each day is something new. Something you didn’t expect. A punch in the gut. Every single time I sat down to write our story my heart hurt so bad that I couldn’t write.
I’ve changed. In the five years since we started the adoption process I’ve changed. My family has been hurt so badly and as much as I know I have a mission to write this book that to go through all of it again to write it is unimaginable in my brain. My husband used to call me the person that charged the hill. I would get the job done. Unstoppable. No matter what! I WANT THAT PERSON BACK!!!! I don’t know where she has gone!! She is missing in action. If you find her please send her home!
So I walked away from writing. The book, this blog. Over and over again in the last months I came back and walked away again. I couldn’t write even one word. I cried. A lot. The sadness of loss was too great. The guilt. Oh the guilt. Before this I had no idea that guilt could cause so much destruction in a life. Most days are a struggle just to do what I have to do. I’m working through all of it. Easier said than done. Way easier.
Then every single darn day I go on social media and read another post about someone adopting. Raising money to adopt their girl or their boy. Or read a post from someone in a secret group how they are living in hell right now because of the adopted child/teen. Add more guilt. Because I know what I need to do. I know because I wake up in the middle of the night and hear His voice. Write. Tell your story. Sound the alarm. Wake up people!!!!
This is absolutely the hardest thing I’ve ever done in my life. Who would have thought that just putting some words on paper would be this hard? But it’s not just words. It’s lives changed. Families destroyed. Futures gone. Years lost. Relationships in shambles. Mistakes made. There is that guilt again. Bad choices. Terrible consequences.
Last week I finally started writing. I told my friend at the end of the week that I had written seven pages. She was thrilled. Now I have ten done. I told my husband and he asked what font? I said 12 with narrow margins. He was proud of me for that. Ha! Small victories!
I write a little and then walk away for a bit. Then I write a little more. I am standing up and doing what needs to be done. Small steps. If I do this maybe I can be that person again. That person who was unstoppable. I do this for her. And for you if you are in the trenches. I understand you. I understand the anger, and the tears and the guilt. This is for you. And your family. For stepping up to do the unimaginable day after day after day. My prayer is that this work will make a difference.
From this point on I will be sharing bits and pieces of what I write in the book on this blog. Please share it with those you know who need to hear what I’m saying. And please remember that this is my story. As always, I know there are great adoption stories out there. If that’s you, I’m so happy that you were blessed with one of them. This story is for all the others that are not so great. This is for the many who live “in the trenches”.
This is simply my opinion,